


In Which the Hive Need a Host

by Anonymous



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Hive being.... Hive, Impregnation, Other, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In Hunter Ari's defense, she totally assumed that once the Hive got her, they'd kill her. Turns out, they have a use for a living Guardian that she didn't anticipate.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70
Collections: Anonymous





	In Which the Hive Need a Host

Ari steps over the broken shells and slowly sliding worms that cling to the walls and floor of this section of Titan’s rigs. This sector hasn’t got any power beyond the pale glowsticks and dim light fixtures that are half covered in dust and grime. The entire area has been taken over by Hive corruption, very few patches of the structure free of the stuff. Her feet are near silent as she walks, avoiding anything that would crack or ooze or make any similar kind of noise. Knowing the Hive, there’s probably a swarm of thrall somewhere nearby. 

Components of her ghost’s shell pop out of her gauntlet and her ever faithful companion assembles, scanning the area. 

“Up ahead,” he whispers, “to the left.”

She turns left. The Hive corruption is even worse here. Something squelches beneath her boots. 

When she rounds the corner she finally comes across her intended target - a downed power converter. She’s spent days clearing the pistons in this sector of Hive gunk, and now the only thing left to do is get the power converters up and running again. Should give Sloan all the energy she needs for doing… whatever it is Sloan does. Ari should really ask someday, when she’s not too busy putting bullets in Hive. Or in Vex. Or Fallen. What can she say? Bullets are fun. 

“Ugh, damn it. This thing isn’t just turned off, it’s fully offline,” she realizes, poking at the buttons on the converter. “Must be a switch somewhere around here. Something’s probably not aligned quite right.”

Ghost’s beam of light sweeps over the room and then lands on a pillar relatively free of Hive gunk and the couple of control panels attached to it. “Over there.”

She holds out her hand and Ghost bumps into her palm in their approximation of a high five. 

The control panels are a bit rusted from all the water and mist and such that must occasionally get in here. Titan’s oceans rise and fall sometimes, she knows that much. No wonder the place has been such a hassle to get up and running again. There’s a large lever on the control panel and sure enough, a few lumps of crusted Hive corruption are blocking it from being fully flipped upwards. 

She grabs the lever with both hands, the textured surface of her gloves allowing her to get a good grip on the slightly slippery metal. A good yank gets the blockage to crack a bit, but no more. 

“Come on,” Ghost says cheerfully. “Put your back into it.”

“Hah _hah_.”

Gritting her teeth and squaring her shoulders, Ari does indeed put her back into it. With a loud _crunch_ and a dust cloud of grimy particles, the blockage breaks away entirely. The level ricochets all the way up, the inertia buildup sending it crashing into the proper place. Aligned at last. 

Now to turn on the converter. 

Something roars and _rumbles_ in the distance. Oh right. There was a reason she was trying to be quiet. 

“Uh oh,” Ghost whispers. 

She draws her trusty hand cannon.

A second later the doors burst open as a dozen angry thrall swarm towards her, scrambling over the uneven ground on their hands and feet if they have to, nothing stopping them from screaming and rushing unrelentingly forward. Their teeth are like cracked oysters, that necrotic Hive corruption dripping from their double jaws, eyeless faces locked onto her own as though they can smell her. They probably can, actually. 

She fans the hammer. A series of _bang-bang-bang_ rings out as she empties a magazine into the approaching thrall. 

Mag empty. She flips a new cartridge into her cannon and flings a glowing solar knife into the nearest thrall. More and more of them are pouring into the room, an unending stream of monsters. She keeps firing shots and draws a standard knife from her belt, burning it gold with solar light and using it to cut through the enemies. A disgusting spray of thrall blood splatters her arm, sinking into the first layer of fabric covering her sturdier mesh suit. 

Reload again. Damn it. 

“Ghost!” she calls out, flipping her cannon and using it to bash in a thrall skull. “Disassemble - you’re too vulnerable!”

Ghost whizzes through the air towards her. 

A thrall tackles him before he can make it. By the Traveler, it _hurts_ with an almost physical pain, like a punch to the gut. She screams as Ghost gets pinned down by the thrall, the gnarled fingers of the Hive scratching his shell as though trying to pry open an egg to get at the yolk within. 

“Transmat out of here!” There’s nothing else he can do right now, and if he doesn’t get the fuck out, she’s - well, she’s kinda _dead_. She kicks a thrall away and puts a bullet in its face. “Get to Sloan, tell her I need help!”

There’s a flash of blue light as Ghost transmats to safety. 

That moment of distraction costs her, and a thrall leaps at her, crunching itself around her arm like a limpet and making her stumble backwards. Its hands grab her cannon, ripping it from her grasp, and then they throw it to the side. Her favorite weapon skids across the floor and smacks into a crusted-over console. 

Oh for Traveler’s sake. 

She gathers solar light in her hands and starts to form knife after knife after knife, readying for a blade barrage - 

A half dozen thrall run into her, twisted arms wrapping around her torso and legs and arms, breaking the knife formations before she has a chance to finish making them. The impact punches the air from her lungs and sends her toppling over, falling onto her back like a fish out of water. Through her visor, she sees fangs snapping at her face and, mentally, she prepares herself for a rather nasty death. Yeesh, and it could be a day or so before Ghost makes his way back to rez her. How inconvenient. 

They don’t kill her. They keep pinning her down, keep pulling at her limbs when she tries to get back on her feet, keep disrupting her as she tries to reach for her tripmine grenades or put a knife into them. 

Before she can demand to know what they’re waiting for, a wizard glides into the room. 

Tattered robes floating through the air behind it, its twisted body not bound by the laws of gravity, head more chassis than skull. It approaches her, oddly shaped eyes glowing a sickly green in the pale light of the room. As it hovers over her, its jaw cracks open and a cloud of blackened necrotic breath washes over her. 

Oh dear. She always hates this. 

Her head goes woozy and faint, and her limbs become so heavy. Too heavy. She can’t put up a resistance anymore and her body goes almost completely slack in the thrall’s grip.

Hive hands tug at her clothing. Her belt and the grenade pouches attached to it are pulled off and thrown away. The communicator at her wrist is crushed into tiny pieces. All the little things she has hidden in her armor, the spool of wire, the caltrops, all of them are methodically found and tossed aside. Far out of her reach, even if she could muster the energy to move. As distant as her trusty cannon. 

She finds herself being hauled up until her feet are an inch above the floor, her back pressed against the wall made of Hive corruption. 

Thrall pin her arms above her head and thick tendrils and worms squirm out of the gunk to wrap around her arms and wrists, sinking back into the gunk and taking her hands with them. Her hands become submerged in the crusted over shells and slimy, rock-like structures that form a thick web over what used to be a metal wall. Her feet are next, similarly pinned in place and then buried in the wall along with the bottoms of her calves by a mess of worms that she knows would be unyielding even if she were able to move. 

The necrotic breath effect is just barely beginning to fade as the wizard approaches. Its hands reach out almost in an embrace. Its fingers wrap around the bottom of her helmet and tug it off, tossing it aside as well. 

Her short blue hair falls free and the sickly green light of the Hive is suddenly ten times brighter without the tint of her helmet’s protective visor.  
She finally musters up a bit of energy and then wastes it by pettily spitting at the wizard. 

The thing doesn’t even notice. More of those worms - or are they tendrils? - crawl out of the corruption. They twist up her thighs, wrap around her waist, crawl embarrassingly low over her hips. Not like Hive understand human - or Awoken, in her case - physiology, but it’s still awkward. 

“What are you going to do?” she demands, mostly to fight the creeping fear. “Eat me?”

It doesn’t respond. 

Something tickling and cold spreads across her skin. She glances down, her head at least still having some ability to move.

Everywhere the worms touch, they’re excreting some kind of ooze or acid. It’s slimy and disgusting and she knows that because she can feel it on her skin. The acid is shredding through her clothing like it’s made of paper. The worms keep moving. Within a few moments, she finds herself utterly naked from the bottom of her breastplate to the middle of her thighs. A worm slides up her stomach and forces its way under her breastplate, unpleasant and repulsive against her skin. It gets all the way up to her shoulder and then pops the armor plating off, letting it fall to the floor. 

Shirt shredded as well, she feels her face flush as her chest is exposed to the cold air of the generator room. The worm curls around one of her breasts as though exploring it, wrapping around and squeezing. A truly embarrassing squeak comes out of her mouth. 

She can feel the rough texture of the Hive corrupted wall against her bare back and her ass and her thighs. Rough enough to cut her if she lets it. Which. She kinda doesn’t have many options in terms of ‘letting it’. 

A wide, thick tendril slides up between her thighs. Her eyes widen as it keeps heading up in a direction she really, _really_ hopes isn’t its end goal. 

The tendril prods between her legs for a moment and then sinks into her cunt. 

She screams. It’s girthier than anything she’s ever had in there before, and even with only the tip inside her, she thinks this thing might very well split her open. Her legs are a couple inches apart, at most, and that angle only makes the tendril feel bigger. It pushes, but she’s way too tight for it and it must know that. Frustrated with lack of progress, it pushes again, harder this time, and her body yields another centimeter to it. 

“No no _no_!” She thrashes back and forth as much as her limited movement allows, trying to move her hips away from the tendril. “Cut this shit out, it’s not funny!”

A tendril slides over her throat. 

Thinking it’s about to strangle her, she screams, “Don’t you dare - !“

It plunges into her open mouth. Her jaw is forced open as the slimy, nasty tendril wriggles between her lips and down until it’s reached the back of her throat. She gags around it, focused entirely on not choking or throwing up or breaking her jaw. When she tries to bite down, it’s pointless. The thing feels spongy as it pushes against her tongue, but it’s hard as hell and her teeth can’t break through it. 

With her distracted, the tendril in her cunt carries on. 

Inch after inch, it plunges into her. Deeper and deeper, pushing up against every part of her inner walls as it continues. What the hell is the Hive even doing? It’s not like they can feel pleasure or anything, can they?

She cries out again, and the noise is muffled by the tendril sitting in her mouth. The one in her cunt is running out of room. It twists around itself, the ringed texture of it sending sparks through her blood and oh _fuck_. It bottoms out inside her, the tip painfully prodding against her cervix as it finds it has nowhere else to go. 

It pauses, as though confused. Thank the Traveler. She nearly relaxes for a moment and then another slimy tendril creeps out from the corruption to slide against her ass. 

No - No it _can’t_ . Surely there’s no room for it, her body already too full from the tendril in her cunt. Terror runs down her spine as the tip of it presses against the pucker of her ass. The answer is it can. Slowly but steadily, it forces its way into her body. She screams against her gag. It _hurts_ and she’s so _so_ tight, the tendril writhing its way into her until she swears she’s going to die from it. 

Once it seemingly decides that there’s no room left, it too pauses. 

Then the one in her cunt begins to pull out. Oh thank the Traveler - It pulls nearly all the way out and then slams back in, making her groan into the tendril in her mouth. The one in her ass starts to thrust as well, the two working in tandem as they fuck her. 

It’s unrelenting, both beginning to thrust into her, deep and rough and the most intense thing she’s ever felt in her life. She can feel them rubbing against each other through the thin boundary of her body, the ridges on each creating friction that she’s never dreamed of. And hell, she’s so _tight_ , tighter than she’s ever been before, and it means she can feel every single drag of those ridges. 

Ari’s face warms again, this time from an embarrassing arousal. This is so weird and so horrifying but damn if she’s not burning up from unwanted pleasure. 

The thing fucking her cunt is already slick and slimey from whatever fluid its excreting, and as it continues, she can feel it get even slicker. She’s getting wet from all this. Through the haze of lingering necrotic breath and being fucked like she’s never been fucked before, she can hear the wet noise of sex as the tendrils inside her plunge in and out. 

The tendril in her throat, as if encouraged by its fellows, begins to thrust as well, going deeper and deeper, pushing her gag reflex aside, until it’s properly fucking her throat. The one in her ass twists as it shoves its way deep inside her and she moans around the flesh in her throat. The worm curled on her chest constricts around her breast again and then moves to give her other tit the same treatment. A white hot pinprick of pleasure shoots through her when it bites down on her nipple. 

Even though she can’t move, she can’t help trying to move her hips, to meet the tendrils’ thrusts as they mercilessly fuck her. She arches her back as much as she can, pushing her breasts into the worm to encourage it to do it again. It bites her other breast, and this time she can feel something freezing cold pump into her flesh. A venom of some kind? Whatever it is, it feels _incredible_. Her nipples feel tight and her breasts unusually heavy, and when she looks down, she can see purple veins spreading out across her tits from the bite marks. 

She desperately wants to move her hands, not so she can free herself, but so she can fondle her breasts, rub her aching clit, do anything to get her closer and closer to the orgasm that’s rapidly building inside her. 

The wizard is still watching her. She doesn’t pay it attention anymore, too focused on trying to hump against the tendrils, focused on the burning pleasure twisting in her stomach, on the way the tendril in her mouth is roughly fucking her throat, on the ridges rubbing against every inch of her cunt and ass as they violate her body. There’s almost something hot about having the monster watch her, almost clinically, as she moans and cries and begs for _yes please, more, don’t stop_ with gagged words. 

That pleasure finally builds to the point of no return and breaks. She comes with a choked scream, her eyes rolling back in her head as a tidal wave of pleasure floods through her, her own slick juices smearing between her thighs, her body twitching like a storm of arc energy has just hit her. 

Hazy and high from her orgasm, she slumps in her bonds. 

The tendrils don’t stop, don’t give her even a moment’s break. Indeed, they take advantage of her wrung out muscles to push even deeper. 

Is it her imagination, or are they getting thicker? No, it’s not - she can feel the tendril in her cunt widening and widening as something rolls up it, pushing against her labia and worming its way in. Even exhausted, her body is simply too small, and at first the - the _thing_ meets resistance. An inevitable wave of peristalsis ripples through the tendril and the orb like thing is pushed into her cunt. It presses against every hypersensitive spot inside her, sending bursts of worn out pleasure through her. 

Finally it too runs out of room and she thinks it’s going to stop and then it forces its way out of the tendril and through her cervix. Her tender insiders are kneaded and stretched as the orb emerges in her womb. 

It’s an egg, she realizes. Oh fuck, the Hive are actually _laying eggs inside her_ \- 

She barely has time to panic before the tendril in her ass is similarly expanding, another egg pushing into her backdoor. If her cunt was too tight, her ass is impossibly small. She screams around the tendril in her mouth and it only plunges deeper down her throat in response. The egg rolls out of the tendril and sits, heavy and fat, deep in her ass. 

Taking turns, the eggs continue. 

Each one stretches her out more than she thought possible, the pressure building and releasing with toe-curling effects. She feels _full_. Full and _stretched_. The eggs ruthlessly rub against every over sensitive inch of her cunt and ass, squeezed out to sit thick and heavy inside her. Each one makes her body twitch from uncontrollable pleasure, and that movement makes the eggs inside her shift against each other. Her cunt is dripping now, her mouth slack around the tendril still thrusting down her throat. 

Ari comes again. 

She can’t stop it, her exhausted, stretched out muscles clench down on the eggs pushing their way inside her and she damn near whites out from the sheer intensity of her orgasm. As soon as she’s down from that high, another egg forces its way into her ass and she comes again, twitching helplessly in her bonds under the wizard’s cold gaze. 

Her head lolls down. Her tits look bloated from that purple venom. Her once flat stomach is now round and taut, a thick bulge from the eggs tenting her skin. She can see her stomach shift with each additional egg and she comes another time from the sensation of fullness. 

Finally the last egg is shoved into her bloated womb and the tendrils withdraw, green fluids squirting from them as they slip out of her distended cunt and ass. Her colon is packed with eggs, her womb stretched around more than she can count. The worm toying with her breast slides back into a tunnel in the corrupted wall. The tendril in her mouth retreats, and threads of saliva run down her swollen lips and over her chin. 

She hangs from her bonds, nearly insensate, occasionally twitching from aftershocks. 

The wizard reaches out a hand, placing a clawed fingertip on her forehead. Stuffed full of eggs and utterly fucked out of her mind, Ari falls unconscious. 

~*~


End file.
